


Guiding Hands

by frvitbatt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Severus Snape, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Magic Tentacles, Magical fleshlight, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Power Dynamics, Sex Curse, Sex Magic, Top Albus Dumbledore, Wandless Magic, dumbledore is a detached top/dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25160170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frvitbatt/pseuds/frvitbatt
Summary: Snape receives an unusual punishment that Dumbledore offers to alleviate.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Severus Snape
Comments: 4
Kudos: 86





	Guiding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first complete fanfic in a few years, and my first real nsfw writing, so please excuse any wonkiness or mistakes. Reviews and comments highly appreciated!

Papers fluttered to the floor accompanied by crashing thumps of books and an empty chalice hitting the stone floor. The potions professor flung himself forward into his quarters, doing all he could to avoid collapsing on the spot. Gasping for air he clutched the surface nearest; a small round side table with some notes he had been taking on a recent project regarding hex implementation of regenerative potion effects. His form convulsed in a slow, rhythmic pattern as his brow furrowed, eyes clenched shut. 

_Focus_ he commanded his mind. Despite his best efforts, the curse was unraveling within him, buckling his knees, curling in his abdomen, refusing to allow him the attention needed to think of a solution to the predicament. 

This little affliction was the Dark Lord’s idea of tongue-in-cheek punishment for the spy who had rejected participating in the celebrations just one time too often. Celebrations were mostly comprised of couples writhing together fueled by the swirl of dark magic and enhancement charms. Of course, all, even those not betrothed, were encouraged to join in either with a partner or group, commemorating whatever their ringmaster had determined a milestone enough for remembrance; everything from muggleborn raids to a successful infiltration of ministry proceedings. The Dark Lord himself never participated in the crude activities, instead watching the dalliances with feverous intent. The more salacious, devious activities piqued his interest the most. 

While these festivities were rare, it did not escape his fellow death eater’s notice that Snape managed to conveniently have tasks related to his employment scheduled that interfered with his attendance. Many jibes were tossed his way. One evening, a giddy and twitching Walden Macnair proposed the spy’s impotence to the group, all while rubbing his inner thigh and searching for approval on the face of the Dark Lord. The bug-eyed wizard had been keen for a more secured position ever since the return of their ruthless leader. Knowing better, Severus did not address this taunt, taking his approved leave at the dismissive wave of his master’s skeletal hand.

That had been then. Too many excuses, too many polite declines over the past few years. Even being among the inner circle, this was not behavior that was to be tolerated for long. Thus, with a hungry grin, the Dark Lord insisted Severus join the festivities, and if he were simply not in the spirits, his master _would_ kindly assist that matter. It was all Snape could do to make it back to Hogwarts and into the safety of his private chambers, the consuming lust nipping at his ankles like fire while disembodied laughter of death eaters rang out behind.

Now, he was doubled over on a shabby striped rug in the middle of his teaching accommodation; a two-room apartment connected to a door in the back of his office by a small hallway and downward spiraling staircase. Only here did he allow himself to struggle out of his robes and undershirt until he lay in only trousers and boots. His skin burned against the cold of the limestone floor. Aching, tormented, the professor ground his hips for any kind of relief, needing pressure on his body that suddenly felt very heavy. Dizzying thoughts ran through his mind, no matter how desperately he attempted to banish them. _Merlin, how long has it been?_

Through the commotion of arousal, the potions master neglected to feel the wards on his chambers disarmed. He also neglected to sense the presence of a tall figure calmly watching over his heated thrashing. 

Clearing his throat, the intruder announced his presence to the man. Snape flinched and quickly turned, slick with sweat and heaving wildly, to see the expressionless face of the headmaster above him. Before he could demand to know why the old bastard had dared enter his private living space without permission, he was prematurely answered.

‘’It does no good for anyone to have a panting death eater storming through the corridors, Severus.’’ He spoke as if this hypothetical death eater were anyone different from the fragile man before him; a boogie man in the night that could be forgotten with a good night's rest. _Had he forgotten to take off his mask before entering the castle? Had someone, a student, spotted him, calling for help?_ No, he had surely vanished it at the Malfoy Manor before apparating outside of the Hogwarts grounds. 

While the older man’s words seemed condemning, his eyes twinkled that familiar mischief just enough to confuse intentions. It was forever difficult to tell whether the mythic Albus Dumbledore was being playfully teasing or honestly brutal in his mannerisms and speech. This was the last moment Snape needed the geezer to indulge in mind games. 

Dumbledore sighed wistfully, ‘’While I do know many things that happen within this castle, there are some mysteries that evade me yet. So, tell a naïve old man; what did he do to you, dear boy?’’

‘’Curse, _hormô nervōsus_ ,’’ Snape’s hoarse voice croaked, his body persistently aching, eyes wild and raven hair on edge with crackling magic. Something told him the old man knew exactly what vexed him, or he would be more acting with more urgency at a potentially dangerous situation. 

‘’Ah, a tricky little curse to break, but one with a foreseeable end, nonetheless.’’

_Damn him, this was dangerous!_

More than likely, the elder wizard simply wanted the younger to admit that he had gotten himself into trouble of his own design. Yes, this had indeed been all Snape’s fault for his youthful hubris, a fact Dumbledore could not relinquish an opportunity to remind him. An eternal sin for which he is still paying, years later, and would continue to repent until his last breath. If he hadn’t wanted the consequence, he would not have committed the action.

‘’Are you here to gawk?’’ he barked at Dumbledore. 

A mustached upper lip twinged.

“I _do_ care, Severus,” an offended pause, “I have _some_ knowledge on these matters,’’ he finished with a breathy, knowing chuckle. 

Confusion and then irritation flashed across Snape’s face. It was humiliating enough that he was being seen in this manner, half clothed and agitated with need. He truly wished the old man would just go away and leave him to tantrum.

‘’What then? Tell me what I need to do to fix... _this_ ,’’ he hissed, indicating towards his whole person with a sharp nod. 

“A solution is in order, and you must know what that is by now. I am sure you can sense it in your body,” Dumbledore said as casually as if Snape had a common cold calling for a remedy of chicken noodle soup and rest. Snape refused to acknowledge this any longer and resigned to a tremble as he rolled his eyes at the old man. Dumbledore was not going anywhere, modesty be damned. A small comfort, but he _had_ already seen Severus at his weakest before. Nothing was sacred from him.

Dumbledore studied him bemusedly through half-moon spectacles. “What do you need, Severus?” He asked in a particularly unassuming tone, stepping around the man to perch himself on the side of the armchair rest.

Snape couldn’t contain his overwhelming urgency, flailing for words as he forwent facade. His hips rose in the air, desperate for contact; hiding his erection was futile at this point.. Dumbledore studied the display, hands clasped politely in his lap.

Grey eyes met the icey blue ones, the later with a relaxed gaze that offered permission, no, instructed proceeding. The detached yet guiding authority elicited a soft groan from the potions master. Mustering all the composure he could, Snape shook as one of his own hands snaked down his abdomen through the black tufts of hair below his navel. Trying desperately to not appear as a foolish, horny school boy in front of Albus, he didn’t rush the process of unfastening his pant front, instead carefully undoing the clasps, revealing his clothed bulge. 

By now, the curse had made nest of Severus’ body and mind, leaving him stiffened and slick with precum in his briefs. It had been years since he could remember being this engulfed by pure sexual desire, if there ever was a time as desperate as this one. In his youth there had been brief encounters, but none leaving him a sopping, whimpering mess in front of another. _Why couldn’t I have led a simple life as a tailor, or godforbid a cabbage farmer! Anything but this fiery hell._

Sharply inhaling, Snape proceeded to grasp his throbbing cock. His head fell back against the cool stone with relief, cushioned only by curtains of black hair pooling out around him in a kind of jet halo. His thumb trailed over the slit at the tip, to which his legs involuntarily kicked out. Every touch, every stroke, felt like build up to an unstoppable collision he couldn’t divert. Yet, there was never enough touch to satisfy the gnawing craving sensation holding his cock in a vice.

For a moment, he forgot that there was even another present as he shamelessly massaged his member. The absence did not last, however, as Albus proceeded to weave magical bindings into the air from his seat. Purple tendrils of light caressed Snape’s skin, licking around his neck and chest, feeling akin to a kind of cooling, liquid silk.

‘’Wh..what is this?’’ was all he could manage to eloquently inquire.

‘’You will need assistance if you wish to reach an orgasm at this level of hex-intoxication.’’

Snape sputtered at the frank words, choking for a grasp on his long-departed reason. Hearing the headmaster speak such words perturbed him as much as it mortifyingly provoked his untameable lust. Dumbledore was right; the trick to this curse was to make the target so overcome with sexual desire that it became almost impossible for them to attend to said need, thus driving them to madness at their inability to cure the devouring want. Therefore, the only option was..

‘’Do you know of another solution to the curse? If so, we can cease-’’

‘’No! Merlin, Albus. Just..no. Don’t...don’t stop,’’ he cut off. As embarrassing as the circumstance was, the need was stronger than the shame. Hopefully the bearded mentor would understand and proceed.

Thankfully, Dumbledore was satisfied with this consent, barely hiding a cheeky grin. His advanced web of magic sprawled further along Severus’ sides, cupping under his arching back and arms. Moving like water, the violet hues flowed softly against the curve of his underside, making Snape gasp as his bottom was cradled by near invisible forces. 

He relinquished himself to the electrifying sensation that enveloped his body. The magic being woven across him danced against the heat of the dark curse, bringing him some satisfaction as he relaxed into the glistening aura. Despite its alieving properties, he still felt the curse driving his need to unspeakable depths. 

His hands grasped aimlessly at the floor as Albus wordlessly completed the intricate maneuver of his long, delicate fingers to construct the charm. Said charm at long last, after much teasing, found it’s target; one length licking at the crevice of Snape’s bottom while one sheathed his cock. The sensation was indescribable, though if he could articulate it at a time his rhyme and reason were not currently launched into the stratosphere, it would be as such: transcending material realms, the magical threads _felt_ as if they were in between a solid state and a liquid one when on the skin, however appeared and moved as a gaseous form, though condensed and manipulated as if encased by the headmaster’s will alone. Yes, it was Albus who truly directed the seemingly lively, independent ministrations of magic. 

“You see, Severus, the spell works as an extension of the caster, allowing utmost control while enabling whims of the senses a mortal of our flesh could never dream,” the man chimed with a jaunty smirk. 

Though dripping with precum, half humping the tight and silklike hole provided, half being devoured by the invading laps, Snape still managed to scoff despite his state of disarray. He was always, inevitably under Albus’ control, and of course he would be reminded of that. The thought, naturally, aroused him. He didn’t _need_ a quip or guilt trip or moral lesson or combination of all three, he _needed_ to get thoroughly and heavily _fucked_ by _this man alone_. (Though the mechanical science of such magic would require some further studying at a better time.)

“I think I have _that_ figured out by now, Albus.”

Dumbledore thoughtfully hummed, a tendril licking at Snape’s left nipple. 

Endlessly the magic being produced worked around, against, and in, the dark vortex of need consuming Snape. His climax built, pushed by the driving lechery in tandem with Dumbledore’s devious magic, as he bucked and thrashed. Nevertheless, he couldn’t quite reach that peak.

“Severus,” the ancient voice called from somewhere far away. 

One of the swirling tendrils that had been licking at his backside suddenly buried itself into the well lubed hole. A guttural moan tore out of Snape at the surprising, yet welcome stimulation. The full heaviness of penetration milked his prostate. Steady, wet gyrating in his entrance combined with the strokes of his cock within the sleeve provided made his balls ache. He was close, and Albus Dumbledore was the reason. 

“Severus; come.”

Many things happened all at once, completely disorienting the potions master. First, the presence in his ass began flickering wildly, rubbing his insides in a very lewd fashion similar to a large tongue. Second, his cock was essentially suckled by the encasement. Third, Albus croaked something indiscernible, prompting tingling, warm magic to flood Snape’s mind and body. Finally, after all that torture, he orgasmed; hard, encompassing, earth-shattering, orgasm. He even screamed, a half whine, half groan, in a way no one would ever imagine one Severus T. Snape screaming. Thick ropes of cum shot out of his cock, landing on his legs, belly, and the dark floorboards.

After what must have only been a minute or so, Severus returned to existence. He breathed shallow after being thoroughly spent. The final tendril withdrew from his anus with a wet pop, the last of his throbbing orgasm leaving with it. 

“Remind me, when the situation is less dire, my boy, and I can teach you the magic you felt tonight at my hand,” was all Albus said in his usual detached yet whimsical candor. 

Snape yelped at the thought of a repeat performance. He couldn’t dare imagine anything touching him at the moment, less risk a second orgasm upon his highly sensitive body. Words had abandoned him, as had shame. He made no movement to hide his shrinking penis, nor clean up the mess he had produced. Those were problems for when he wasn’t drunk on the post-orgasm warm and fuzzies, and had the sense to be properly ashamed later! 

Silvery blue robe hems with bright purple trimmings and spiral patterns moved in front of Snape’s face. 

“Goodnight, Severus. Do take care.”

There was nothing else offered, no explanation nor promise or apology as the door clicked softly, announcing the departure of the headmaster. 

He would regret not saying anything, not thanking nor scolding, nor apologizing to the old man. For now, he was left with the complete relinquishment of power one can only achieve after having their body played with by two masters of equal cruelty and mercy. Implications were for the morning. For now, he was undone and saved. 

  
  
  



End file.
